Chance Encounter
by Lauriesf
Summary: Have you ever dreamt of meeting Jack O'Neill? This is my take on what could happen. Hope you'll like it. Kind of a pre-Xmas gift ;)


Chance Encounter

You sit at the bar, wondering what you're gonna have. It's obviously not your type of place though you have to admit it would feel homey if only your boyfriend for one year and a half had not just ditched you. You've agreed to meet him here to please him because he liked the place. Now he's left you alone and since you're here, why not drown your humiliation in a few drinks. You had not anticipated his reaction at the news of your transfer to another city. Apparently, you're not worth the effort of a long-distance relationship. He was adamant about it and didn't waste any time telling you.

Your eyes sting from the humiliation and pain and you don't trust yourself to go home to your empty, too silent apartment. You tell yourself you'll have one drink to unwind a little before you go. If he'd been here, you'd probably had your usual Sex on the Beach and he would have joked about you being so predictable. After all, there are some many cocktails with enticing names like Sea, Sex and Sun or Orgasm that you could try... Why always settle for the same old thing all the time? All of a sudden you realize that you might not be thinking only entirely about cocktails.

Your eyes register some movement to your right and you turn your head to see a handsome man sitting on the bar stool next to you. "Don't hesitate," he casually tells you as he beckons to the bartender, "on an occasion like this, you should settle for champagne. The guy was definitely a jerk. You're better off without him." You're taken aback and don't know what to answer when the bartender addresses you: "So? What could I get you, lady? Champagne as the gentleman is suggesting?" He raises his eyebrows expectantly but the man next to you answers before you: "Champagne it will be! My treat! It's always a pleasure to see a fine lady getting rid of an asshole like him." You try to protest but he shushes you, one long elegant finger pressing softly against your lips, his chocolate brown eyes locking with yours, a soft smile tugging at his mouth. "And I'll have some more of this," he says, lifting his glass to reveal its amber content.

He turns to you again and extends his hand: "My name is Jack. And you are?" You tell him your name. Your hand lingers in his. You can't help it. His skin is so soft and warm. You look into each other's eyes and it seems like time is standing still. You would like it to last forever. You suddenly feel awkward. He must be thinking what a tease you are, keeping his hand in yours so you withdraw it and drop it on your lap, looking away. "I'm sorry," you start to say, your voice barely a whisper.

"You don't have to apologize for anything," he tells you, the smile gone, his look suddenly showing concern.

"Yes, I do, really, I don't know what got into me. I never hit on men like I just did." You blush as you say it. Oh great! Now you even feel worse than when your boyfriend left you.

"Hey," he whispers to you as he bends towards you, getting into your personal space. "I think you need a little pep talk here! You did not hit on me. I'm the one who came to you. If someone is responsible for anything, that would be me. I saw you were sad and lonely. I can connect to that. We all need a little bit of support and compassion once in a while and more," he adds, his eyes turning to a darker shade of brown, "that is, if you want it..." His voice trails off and you blush some more.

"Don't get me wrong," he hurriedly goes on, "I had the impression you'd felt the static too. But if it's not the case, please forgive me for ever mentioning it."

He's mistaken your remaining silent for a rebuke. It's not. He's just too close to you and you can smell his perfume, one you know but there's something more to it, something you can't identify until you realize that it's just him, his scent that's making the perfume, that spicy, fresh fragrance, so irresistible. You want to drown in his scent and unconsciously bend toward him until you're only inches away. "No," you finally whisper back, "I mean, yes I felt it... But it's so not like me to be so frank about it."

He takes hold of your hand and strokes your wrist lightly with his thumb, sending shivers down your spine. You see how elegant his hands are and how long his fingers and you shock yourself wondering what his hands would feel like on your body. In spite of what you've just said, you'd give anything to feel this again and again. You haven't got enough of feeling his skin against yours and you want more.

You're deep in thoughts and don't hear it but he grabs his phone from his pocket and winces at you apologetically. "I have to get this," he says, adding, "work..." You nod your understanding and softly retrieve your hand from his own but not before he's lightly brushed his lips on it. They're sheer heaven and you wonder what they would feel like against yours. He seems to read your mind because a smile tugs at his mouth wickedly. You take a sip from your glass of champagne to shift your attention elsewhere while he answers. "Hey Daniel, what's up?" You see him frowning as he listens to the other party. "I'm good," he answers, rolling his eyes, absent-mindedly twirling his whiskey in his glass. "Yeah, listen, I know the first days are the worst. I agree. But, then, if you don't constantly remind me of her absence, I might get through it, somehow," he adds, a look of frustration on his face. "For cryin' out loud, Danny Boy – he hears you giggling at the expression, you can't help it, and winks at you, making you blush – I know you meant well. Say hi to T for me. Yeah sure, you betcha, we see each other next week at the cabin... Can't wait," he adds, now grinning. "Bye." He replaces his phone in his pocket and turns to you. "Sorry about that," he apologizes. "Old friend, worries about me, busy body..."

You answer him: "But he means well," copying his expression, then it's your turn to apologize: "Couldn't help overhearing," you shrug and give him a small smile.

"That's OK," he answers patting your hand, looking into your eyes, smiling back at you.

"I shouldn't probably ask," you tell him, "but that lady you were talking about, she seems important to you..." You see the wistful look in his eyes and blurt out: "Sorry."

"No, don't," he interrupts, gently laying his hand on your arm. "I'm glad I can talk about her with someone who's not involved."

"Tell me more, " you prompt him.

"She's transferred to – how should I put it – some distant place." On that he chuckles to himself as if laughing about some private joke. "We've been apart for different reasons in the past, most of all rules and regulations." You lift your eyebrows at that and he explains: "Air Force, non-fraternisation regs..." You nod and he goes on: "She's always been somehow in my line of command but now, it's quite different. That promotion was important to her. I wanted to give her room to breathe. I miss her though, a lot..." he admits, his eyes lost in the distance and you know he's not here with you anymore, his mind reaching out to her, wherever she is. Then the moment is over and he turns his gaze to you. "Love of my life, if ever I should use that cliché!" He smirks and you don't find anything else to answer but another cliché: "Wow, she's one lucky gal!" You say, hoping this will comfort him.

"And I'm one lonely guy..." he answers wistfully. You look into his eyes. They become a couple of shades darker and you feel that mild electric jolt, along with a tingling sensation throughout your body.

"Would you like to take a walk with me?" he asks, his voice deep and resonant. You nod your approval and reach for your coat and purse. He motions with his hand towards your almost full glass. "Would you like to finish it before you go?" You shrug your indifference.

You take a glance at his glass and see that he has barely touched it either. "Yours?" you say enquiringly.

"Nope, I'm good," he answers as he helps you into your coat, his scent enveloping you as he wraps it on your shoulders, his arms lingering a few seconds around them. He's taken your hand in his and is gently tugging you towards the exit. "Come to think about it, this was not what I needed tonight."

He leads you round the corner of the pub, into the dark alley. Pushing you gently up against the wall, he leans in and kisses you gently but insistently. You feel a burst of heat traveling through your body. You know he'd pull back if you told him to but you have no intention of doing that! On the contrary, one of your arms goes round his waist, deepening the kiss. Your other hand is in his silver hair that you've wanted to touch ever since you've laid eyes on him. He ends the kiss after a long moment, giving you a chance to breathe, then looks at you questioningly. You don't know if it's his touch, his kisses or his eyes so intent on yours, but you feel suddenly weak in the knees. "I need to sit down," you tell him. He wraps his arm around your waist and leads you to the park across the street to a bench under a chestnut tree.

Darkness has settled on the city and under the soft light of the street lamps you see the dew glistening on the blades of grass. You shiver a little and he wraps his arm around your shoulders, pulling you gently towards him. You lay your head on his shoulder and deeply sigh with content at being held in such a warm and tender embrace. You both look at the stars in silence for a few minutes – each submerged in your own thoughts. You feel his free hand trace your jaw. He then tilts your chin with one finger towards him, pulls back for a moment, an unspoken question in his eyes. You nod once and see his eyes smolder with desire. He pulls you again in his embrace and you feel safe within the protection of his arms. He kisses your temple and whispers in your ear: "This is not about revenge for you or sadness for me, right? This is about two people who need each other, if only for tonight."

You smile at him and nod again. You need to add: "I don't normally do this sort of thing..." Your voice trails off and you blush. He kisses your lips softly. "I know," he whispers. "This is why it feels so right to be here with you tonight."

His lips are so soft on yours and you lean in. "More!" you say.

He chuckles softly. "As the lady wishes," he says, his lips meeting yours again but this time the kiss is more demanding and very soon becomes torrid. You moan in his mouth, begging wordlessly for more. His warm, sensuous lips trail along your jaw to your ear where he nibbles at the lobe, sending jolts of electricity to your spine. The hand wrapped around your shoulders is now traveling to your neck, massaging it, while his free hand is busy unbuttoning you coat then shirt and sliding under it, stroking the smooth skin of your breasts, making you quiver. God, his touch is wonderful! He kisses your eyelids, your lips, your neck as he fondles your breasts, doing wicked, delicious things to your nipples. Your breathing has become uneven and your own hands have traveled under his shirt too and you can't get enough of his skin. You drop butterfly kisses on his neck and jaw. He tightens his embrace. "That feels wonderful," he hoarsely whispers, "don't stop!"

You realize that most things you've done the past few years with your boyfriends have never been that sensuous and you're not even in bed! You've wrapped your arms around him, tugging him closer to you and you fondle his shoulders and back and arms and you hear him groan with pleasure, his body pressed against yours.

Too soon though you both hear people coming your way, strolling toward your side of the park and you quickly part and button up your shirt and coat. You're both left panting, first embarrassed at the situation – feeling like two teenagers smooching on the front porch – then as you realize you've both thought about the same thing, you burst out laughing. He holds out his hand and you both stand and start walking toward the parking lot.

"We'd better be good and go home," he says, smiling softly at you. "I've got an early meeting tomorrow morning."

"Me too," you answer. You suddenly feel awkward.

"Listen," he says, as you reach your car, and takes both of your hands in his, "I want you to do something for me..."

You tilt your head to the side and look at you enquiringly.

"Don't ever let any man belittle you, like that jerk did tonight. There's someone out there for you," he waves at the vast expanse of horizon, "and when he finds you, you will be his everything, like she is for me... and he will be one lucky guy! Don't ever settle for less, OK?" He's cupped your chin in one of his hands and is obviously waiting for your answer. You feel yourself melt under his kind chocolate brown gaze.

"Promise," you tell him, your voice hoarse with emotion. He kisses you once more, a warm, tender kiss that leaves you weak in the knees and then opens the door of your car for you. As you drive away, you see him turn and head for his own car. Even though you know you may never see him again, rather than mourn the loss, you choose to treasure the memory forever. Your last thought that night before you drift off to sleep goes out to that wonderful girl – wherever she is – who's captured his heart and you hope that some day you'll be as worthy as her of being loved by a man like him.


End file.
